Just One Kiss
by romani-princess
Summary: Hermione's admitted it. Harry's admitted it. Now all they want is just one kiss.
1. Chapter 01 :: Out of the Closet

Summary: Hermione's admitted it. Harry's admitted it. Now all they want is just one kiss. Unfortunately, Fate (and the entire Hogwarts populace) is not being very helpful.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger and associated characters and events do not belong to me. They belong to the marvellously talented JK Rowling (published under Bloomsbury Press). They are being used solely for entertainment purposes and no money is being made from this work (trust me on this one). No copyright infringement is intended.

Author's Note: This is a side-effect of my slight case of writer's block … the inspiration hit and I was just too happy that I had to write something! I originally started this two days before PoA came out but something came up (quite a lot of somethings, actually) and I never ended up finishing the damn thing. So, despite my many distractions (who really needs to pass exams?), the movie gave me the inspiration to actually finish this :) Can't wait to see it again. And again. Next time I think I'll take notes – Cuaron has to be one of the biggest closet H/Hr shippers on the face of the planet.

I'm not quite sure how long this will be – probably no more than three parts, but we'll see where the muse takes me.

Also, I must warn that this is a flufflet. Lots of fluff. Lots and lots of fluff. It is also a bit silly. It is a silly flufflet.

**Just One Kiss**

Chapter One :: Out of the Closet

Like all good tales of romance, this one started in a broom closet.

Well, it actually started several months before the broom closet but, for the sake of conciseness, that is where the story picks up.

Hermione Granger was quite a diligent student and thus spent a fair amount of her time reading, as everyone of her acquaintance was well aware of. With the approaching NEWTs, the studious girl had taken to reading at every available opportunity; lunch, dinner, trips into Hogsmeade, and even while walking to and from class. Classes had ended for the day and Hermione was making her way to Gryffindor Tower, intent on nothing more than a relaxing night with her best friends in front of the fire.

Her nose was dutifully buried in her rather hefty Arithmancy textbook as she walked and she was only vaguely aware of the noise and bustle in the hallways around her.

"Hermione!"

Hermione frowned slightly and glanced up briefly from her book, looking around for the source of the hissed whisper. Her gaze landed on one Harry Potter, Head Boy and all round wonderful guy, standing inside a broom closet, accompanied by a rather sinister looking mop and bucket. He was holding a crumpled piece of parchment in his hands, his wand tip alight and his eyes wide. He stuck his head around the door, glanced furtively from side to side, and then stuck his head back inside.

He then carefully scrutinised the parchment and his face paled considerably. "Oh no."

Hermione recognised the parchment as the Marauder's Map. She was quite alarmed at the look of horror on his face and she raised her eyebrows at this rather odd behaviour. Closing her book and clutching it against her chest, she took a reflexive step toward him. She hadn't seen Harry since just after lunch; he hadn't been in their Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson – and she couldn't quite imagine what he was doing in a broom closet on the third floor. "Harry, are you –?"

"Shh!" he hissed loudly. And, quick as a flash, he reached out, grabbed her arm and yanked her into the closet. The door slammed shut.

Hermione suddenly found herself in complete darkness, her nose pressed into the sinister looking mop and her front squashed against a very tense, very silent Harry.

"Harry, what –" she began, but was quickly silenced as his hand came up and pressed against her mouth.

"Shh," he repeated urgently.

As her eyes adjusted to the almost complete darkness of the broom closet, Hermione managed to tilt her head back enough to look at Harry's face. By this point, the poor girl was quite at a loss but she refrained from talking. She hadn't a clue what was going on and found the entire situation rather disconcerting. Harry was acting very odd indeed.

Hermione then heard the distinct sound of girly chatter and giggles passing by. Those giggles sounded oddly familiar, but she couldn't quite place them.

When the giggles had subsided Harry slowly lowered his hand and relaxed slightly against the wall.

"Would you like to explain that, Harry?" Hermione said, whipping out her wand with a flourish. "Lumos."

"They're after me," Harry said, rather succinctly considering his vexation only moments before.

Hermione blinked, and then she shrugged. "Harry, I'm afraid you're going to have to be more specific. At the present moment there are a lot of people after you. Professor Snape wants to 'discuss' your Potions essay – which I'll admit was definitely below par but it wasn't that bad – both Malfoy AND McGonagall are out for your blood after that fiasco with the French knickers, I hear that Professor Trelawney predicted your death – seventh time today, I think – and that girl from Hufflepuff wants you to sign her school bag."

This time it was Harry's turn to blink as he digested this information. My, he was a popular fellow, wasn't he?

But Hermione wasn't quite finished yet. "And then, of course, there's Lord Voldemort and the Death Eaters, but I assume you're not talking about them."

"Are you quite done?" Harry asked dryly. "Well, I'm very happy to report that Voldemort hasn't been Apparating in the hallways –"

"But you can't –"

Harry waved her off her protests. "Yes, I know Hermione. Where was I …?"

"Lord Voldemort Apparating in hallways," Hermione supplied helpfully.

Harry nodded slowly. "Ah yes. Anyway, it's not that git, Malfoy. It's not Snape. It's not Voldemort. This is much, much worse."

"Worse?" Hermione asked, somewhat incredulously. She was at a loss as to what could actually be worse than Professor McGonagall in a tizzy over French knickers. Oh yes, and the murderous Dark Lord, too.

"Much worse," Harry said with a decided nod. He held up the Marauder's Map and prodded at the parchment with his wand. "Them."

Hermione held up her wand and lowered her eyes to the Map curiously. There, just past the Arithmancy classroom only doors away from the broom closet which she and Harry were currently occupying, she saw a small huddled group of girls. One of the miniature figures was waving her little arms about in a rather agitated manner. As Hermione read the names of the group that had so terrified Harry, the realisation dawned and she had to stop herself from laughing.

"I see," she said slowly, trying to keep a straight face.

"It's horrible, Hermione!" Harry exclaimed in extreme agitation. "They won't leave me alone. They're in the hallways, they wait for me around corners, and yesterday, they were waiting for me in Transfiguration. If Professor McGonagall hadn't been there to shoo them out, I can't imagine what would have happened."

"Harry," Hermione said. By this time she'd given up trying to be serious and the amusement shone clear in her eyes. "They're just girls."

Harry looked somewhat taken aback at that comment, but then his eyes narrowed and he leaned closer. "Hermione," he said in a very low voice. "They followed me into the Prefect's bathroom last night. There I was, wrapped in towel and dripping wet, when suddenly the door swings open and all five of them trample in. They had Omnioculars and a camera and I was very traumatised. I may never have another bath again."

Miranda Appleby, Hillary Chalmers, Willow Emmanuels, Audrey Aurelia and Kelli-Ann Mason were intent on getting dates for the upcoming Halloween celebrations. And each girl had her eye set on the infamous Harry Potter (well, at least it seemed that way to Harry). Actually, there were a fair few girls that were pursuing Harry in hopes of a date, but none so much as that group of five girls. For the last two weeks they'd managed to pop up all over the place, most often quite unexpected.

Harry had attempted, rather ineffectively Hermione couldn't help but notice, to dissuade the girls. But apparently, none of the girls was taking no for an answer. Harry had begun to develop a nervous twitch in his left eye anytime anyone even mentioned the aptly named Samhain Soirée. While Hermione was sympathetic to her best friend's plight, it was still funny.

This time, Hermione couldn't help it. She burst out laughing. Loudly.

Harry hadn't been expecting this reaction and thus looked, quite rightly, less than amused. Then his gaze flicked to the Marauder's Map in his hand and his eyes widened behind his glassed. He let out a very unmanly 'eep!' and, with reflexes undoubtedly brought about by his years of Quidditch training, promptly slapped his hand back over Hermione's mouth, grabbed her wand and extinguished it, all while pressing himself into the corner of the broom closet. In his travels he sidestepped the bucket, kicked over a container of Sparkle Shine Mirror Polish, and found himself rather intimately acquainted with the mop (which had admittedly seen quite a fair bit of action today). It was admittedly quite a multi-tasking effort.

After spitting out a mouthful of mop, he moved his face close to Hermione's ear and hissed an urgent, "Shh!"

Hermione couldn't help but think that perhaps his constant shushing would inevitably lead the girls straight to him. She then heard the telltale giggling (did they not have another way of communicating with each other that didn't involve giggling, for goodness sake) and felt Harry's arm tighten around her. From the pitch and frequency of the giggles, the girls sounded to be right outside the broom closet.

She shifted slightly in his arms in an attempt to get more comfortable. Broom closets are excessively uncomfortable no matter the company or the otherwise luxurious nature of the castle in which said broom closet is in. They aren't by rule particularly large either. And, while Hermione was stuck in what was quite possibly the smallest broom closet in existence with her best friend – who just happened to be the most eligible bachelor in the wizarding world – she was anything but comfortable.

But that wasn't what had her head in a spin.

There was also the small, teeny, insignificant fact that she may well have been kinda sorta head over heels for her best friend. However, this hypothesis was still in the early theoretical stages, so Hermione wasn't quite sure just yet – she needed to analyse it just a little bit more.

And yes, her face was squashed against the front of his robes and, to make matters worse, she was still clutching the Arithmancy textbook.

'But he smells so very good,' her mind supplied less than helpfully. Making a mental note to steal his cologne at the next opportunity, Hermione attempted to pull away, even just a little. Harry's arms, however, didn't move a single inch and so Hermione found herself stuck. Of course, one could argue that she didn't particularly make that much of an effort, but really, that was also pure speculation at this time.

She only vaguely registered the fact that the giggles were subsiding, this time in the other direction, until they were completely gone.

She felt Harry collapse against the wall, and his arm her waist relaxed slightly. Almost without realising, she tilted her head up to look at him. His hand was still pressed against her mouth and she blinked up at him silently.

Something, Hermione wasn't sure what, flickered across Harry's eyes and he bit his lip. He slowly lowered his hand, his fingers brushing gently across her lips as he did so. Hermione felt her heart stop and then it promptly broke into an overzealous rendition of the tango as his hand slid across her chin and down her neck, finally coming to rest on her shoulder.

They stood there for what seemed like an eternity, brown eyes clashing with green.

Three seconds later she decided that she'd analysed the situation as much as she wanted to.

At that point, she wanted nothing more than to wrap her arms around his shoulders and kiss him absolutely senseless. However, she was somewhat hampered by the fact that her arms were currently still around her book, and Harry simply had yet to let go of her long enough to allow her to disengage herself from the damned thing. As much as she adored books and all things literary, she really did have her limits.

And this was certainly it.

"Harry …" Hermione whispered, so softly he almost didn't hear her. She bit her lip as she looked up at him.

Harry's eyes darkened noticeably and he smiled slightly. Hermione felt her face flush.

And then slowly, ever so slowly, he lowered his face to hers. Hermione's eyes slipped shut; her heart raced. She felt his breath skim lightly across her mouth …

The broom closet door was arbitrarily flung open and the late afternoon sunlight filtered inside.

"Harry! Hermiohhhh –"

Hermione nearly had a heart attack on the spot. Her eyes snapped open and she pushed herself backward. In her surprise she dropped the book – a rather hefty volume – right on Harry's foot.

"Ouch!" Harry yelped. His wand, which was in the back pocket of his trousers, suddenly emitted red and gold sparks and fell to the floor.

"Harry! I'm so sorry!" Hermione cried. She ducked down to retrieve the book just as Harry bent down to retrieve his wand. Their foreheads slammed together and they both fell backward, clutching their heads.

"Ouch!" they said in unison.

"Oh Merlin, that was a classic!"

Harry and Hermione turned to glare.

Ron Weasley, their dear and beloved friend, was leaning against the opposite wall laughing his head off. "You were … and then she …" he gasped between giggles. He was laughing so hard that he couldn't quite string together an entire sentence. "And then you both – oh, Merlin … never seen anything so funny. Hysterical! I tell … Fred and George will love this …"

Hermione sat back against the wall and buried her head in her hands, but not before shooting Ron a murderous glare. She steadfastly refused to even glance in Harry's direction.

She was so close! So damn close and then –

She looked up suddenly – Ron was still laughing – and glanced at Harry. He was shaking his head as though trying to clear it. Then abruptly his gaze landed on her. Hermione's eyes widened slightly and, almost unconsciously, she bit her lip.

Harry blinked and then looked away, a slight smile on his face.

Hermione's eyes narrowed.

Now, all those who know Hermione are well aware of the fact that the girl is quite stubborn (and those who really knew her were aware that that was the understatement of the decade) and does not stop until she gets what she wants. And this was no different.

A wickedly sensual smile played across her face. He owed her a kiss.

And by Merlin she was going to get it.

… tbc


	2. Chapter 02 :: Bloody Broomsticks!

Summary: Hermione's admitted it. Harry's admitted it. Now all they want is just one kiss.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger and associated characters and events do not belong to me. They belong to the marvellously talented JK Rowling (published under Bloomsbury Press). They are being used solely for entertainment purposes and no money is being made from this work (trust me on this one). No copyright infringement is intended.

Author's Note: Randomness abounds. Review away.

**Just One Kiss**

Chapter Two :: Bloody Broomsticks

" --- snogging, you say?"

Hermione, who was sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the fireplace, glanced up as Lavender and Parvati sauntered through the portrait hole after lunch, arm in arm and talking in less than discreet tones. She ducked her head back down to her book, intent on ignoring them. When Lavender and Parvati linked arms it could only mean one thing – gossip. And it wasn't exclusively Seventh Year gossip. They were very non-discriminative when it came to that kind of thing – anyone, regardless of age, sex or race was eligible to be gossiped about.

"Oh yes," Lavender said, nodding fervently. "In a broom closet. Ron found them."

Parvati giggled.

Hermione dropped her book into her lap, eyes wide. "Oh dear," she breathed.

"Caused quite a spectacle, I hear," Lavender continued, not paying the least attention to anyone else. "Ron was furious."

Hermione blinked. Huh? Ron was … what?

"Who would have thought," Parvati mused. "Such an unusual couple, I must say. But I suppose we should have seen it coming, shouldn't we? They spend so much time together – it was only a matter of time when you think about it. It's cute though, isn't it? So romantic."

Lavender laughed. "Romantic? I wouldn't use those exact words. Neville and Ginny – the couple of the millennium."

Ah, Neville and Ginny. Hermione heaved a sigh of relief – and then she blinked again.

Ginny and … Neville? Well, this was certainly new. She knew that there was an attraction, but she had no idea things had progressed so far. While Hermione was not in league with the almost instinctive gossiping powers of Lavender and Parvati, she did have a fair share of curiosity on her side particularly seeing as Ginny usually told her everything anyway. And yet somehow this had managed to slip by. Hmm. She made a mental note to interrogate Ginny later.

Hermione didn't have much time to dwell on this rather interesting tidbit of information because, at that moment, the portrait hole swung open and Ron stepped through, scowling dangerously. He shot a dirty look at Lavender and Parvati, who were now loudly discussing the merits of broom cupboards as favourable snogging locations. He spotted Hermione and strode over, settling down on the floor beside her, silently fuming.

Without saying a word, he picked up the fire poker and prodded at the logs in the fireplace. Hermione arched an eyebrow, vaguely wondering if she shouldn't be worried about Ron brandishing pointy instruments. Deciding that he probably wasn't going to get up and inflict bodily harm to anyone anytime soon (unless of course Neville happened to walk though the door at that very moment), she turned back to her book.

"It's a bloody epidemic, that's what it is," Ron muttered.

Hermione barely glanced up. "What is?"

"Snogging in broom closets," Ron said, still scowling. "Everyone's doing it. Justin Finch-Fletchley and Susan Bones, Seamus and that Hufflepuff sixth year, Amanda something or other, you and Harry – "

Hermione's head snapped up, alarmed. "Me and Harry? We were just – "

"And now Ginny and Neville!" Ron finished loudly, ignoring her completely. He turned to Hermione. "Is it something in the water?"

"I doubt that, Ron," Hermione said soothingly. Then she went back to the subject at hand. "Ron, about me and Harry …"

Ron leaned back against the couch and cushioned his head in his arm. "What about you and Harry?"

"Me and Harry … I mean, Harry and I … not to say that there is a Harry and I –" Hermione broke off, having completely lost her train of thought. She tried again. "Well, of course there's a we, but not a we as in Harry and me, a we as in all of us … I mean … No, that's – what I mean to say is, Harry and I weren't – " She trailed off again. "Where was I?"

Ron shrugged, looking decidedly more amused than he had been. His eyes sparkled mischievously. "I believe you were about to tell me about your snog in the broom closet."

This time it was Hermione's turn to scowl. "What I meant to say is that Harry and I weren't – "

"Of course you weren't," Ron interrupted breezily. "That doesn't mean to say you didn't want to."

Hermione flushed scarlet. It was one thing to set her eyes (or her lips as the case may be) on the infamous Boy Who Lived. It was quite another to all but be accused of it by one of her best friends. "Oh, shut up Ron. Harry is – "

"Right here."

Hermione had retained enough sense to shut her mouth as she looked up into the startlingly green eyes that had haunted her thoughts since yesterday afternoon. She unthinkingly nibbled at her lower lip. "Hello Harry."

"Hey Harry."

Harry tore his gaze away from Hermione long enough to pin Ron with an amused grin. "I saw Neville outside. Ginny's trying to convince him to come inside."

"Oh, is he really?" Ron said, eyes gleaming speculatively as he glanced over his shoulder at the portrait hole. "Right outside?"

"Be nice, Ron," Hermione warned him, turning back to her book. "There will be no murder and mayhem today."

"And the Head Girl has spoken," Harry finished teasingly. He looked at Ron. "Can't do anything now, mate, or she'll clobber you with a broomstick."

Ron sighed and leaned back against the couch.

After much cajoling and promises of a continued existence, Neville finally scrambled through the portrait hole. He wisely circumvented the area in front of the fireplace and instead firmly secreted himself in a corner of the common room. Ginny sat close by, patting his arm in reassurance and shaking her head laughingly at Ron every few minutes. Ron glared and gripped the fire poker.

Neville saw this and, appearing slightly nauseated, looked as though he'd rather be having a nice cup of tea with the Dark Lord rather than be anywhere near Ron.

Ron's face turned several shades of purple as Ginny leaned in and kissed Neville on the cheek.

"A bloody epidemic," Ron muttered malevolently, dropping the poker and crossing his arms.

Hermione looked up from her book and caught Harry's amused smile. His eyes swept lazily over the occupants of the common room. Hermione followed his example. Ginny and Neville were now gazing soundlessly at each other, Lavender and Parvati were sitting at a nearby table sighing and smiling at the romance of it all. Several second years were playing an enthusiastic game of Exploding Snap. There were many explosions and the occasional smell of singed hair. Two forth year students were practicing a Levitation Charm on a third student who had fallen asleep over his homework. Hermione watched as he rose three inches out of his chair.

"Wands down, boys," Hermione called loudly.

The fourth years looked up sheepishly and, seeing a displeased Head Girl, promptly tucked their wands inside their robes. The third boy grunted as he fell back onto the chair with a soft thud.

Hermione shook her head. "Honestly," she murmured.

Her eyes fell finally back on Harry. She flushed slightly when she realised that he was regarding her silently, but held his gaze.

She wasn't quite sure how long they'd been staring at each other when Ron stood up and stretched languidly.

"Time to go, Harry," he said, shooting another glare in Neville's direction.

Harry slowly tore his gaze away from Hermione and blinked up at Ron. "Where are we going?"

Ron looked at Harry as though he'd suddenly sprouted a second head. "Where are we …? But you – and then we …" he trailed off and pinned Harry with a searching look. Something seemed to click because he then looked, strangely enough, from Harry to Hermione and then back again. He sighed in defeat. "Oh, bloody wonderful. It is an epidemic!"

"Ron, what are you – "

Harry broke off, looking rather bewildered as Ron shot him a disgusted look, crossed his arms, and shook his head despairingly. "Harry, Harry, Harry …"

After several more murmured 'Harry's', Harry finally threw his arms up. "What?"

"Ready for training, mon Capitan?" Ginny interrupted cheerfully, coming up beside her beloved brother, who was still muttering Harry's name despondently. She paused for a moment, glancing sideways at Ron and her brow furrowed slightly. She looked toward Hermione, eyebrow arched in silent question.

Hermione shrugged. "Don't look at me. I haven't a clue as to what's going on with that boy."

"Training?" Harry said, as though it were an utterly foreign concept. "For what?"

Now Ginny turned her questioning gaze to Harry. She looked at Hermione again.

"It's a guy thing," Hermione assured her.

"Quidditch!" Ron said loudly. Several people in the common room looked up curiously. "We have Quidditch training!"

"Oh," Harry said slowly. He shot Hermione a quick grin. "I knew that."

"I wonder if anyone's been practicing Confundus Charms," Ginny mused.

Ron rolled his eyes – whether he was doing so at Ginny or Harry was up for debate – and disappeared upstairs to collect his broom.

Harry stood and prepared to follow. He then changed ideas mid-step and promptly sat down on the couch. His hand reached out and, after a moment's hesitation, tugged at Hermione's hair.

Hermione, who had become fully aware of his presence the second he'd sat down, tilted her head up.

"Fancy some fresh air," Harry asked with a fleeting smile.

With some careful effort, Hermione suppressed the urge to leap up and tango across the room. "That's not a bad idea," she said, a fair deal calmer than she felt. Inside, her heart was thumping erratically and her stomach was a mass of fluttering butterflies. If she'd been standing up, she felt positively sure that her knees would have given out from sheer happiness.

Harry grinned.

Hermione watched him take the stairs to the dormitories two at a time, and took a deep breath. This is ridiculous, she told herself. You've watched him practice millions of time. Which was true. Lately, if the weather permitted, she'd taken to gathering her books and joining Harry, Ron and Ginny on the Quidditch pitch while they trained. Granted, she did a lot more studying of Harry than she did any of her books, but really, a girl needed some time away from her school books every once in a while.

Still, as far as she could remember, this was the first time Harry had actually asked her to come along …

Hermione grabbed her Arithmancy book and a worn leather-bound copy of _Hogwarts, A History_ and joined a silent Ginny by the portrait hole. Ginny gave her an oddly appraising look, took in Hermione's flushed cheeks and bright eyes, and bit back a grin.

Harry and Ron arrived downstairs moments later and the four of them made their way down to the Quidditch pitch.

They were soon joined by the other four members of the team, beaters Nathan White and Jackson Cruz, and Chasers Matti O'Malley and Dominic Lorenzo. As the team shuffled off into the changing rooms, Hermione started toward the stands.

"Oooh …" she said, startled. She wasn't the only one who had turned out to watch.

Miranda Appleby, Hillary Chalmers, Willow Emmanuels, Audrey Aurelia and Kelli-Ann Mason were huddled together in the first row, chatting excitedly and occasionally searching the Quidditch pitch for signs of activity.

As Hermione settled into a seat on the topmost row, several sections away from the chattering girls and directly beside a set of goal hoops, she set her books down on the wooden bench and pulled out her Omnioculars. She caught a glimmer of dark red fabric; Harry was leading the team onto the field. He paused, looked up to Hermione's usual section, and waved.

Then he skidded to a stop so abruptly that Ron walked right into him.

Hermione couldn't help but grin at the stunned expression on Harry's face.

It was several seconds before Ron snapped Harry out of his terrified stupor and gently nudged him onto his broom.

The second Harry was up in the air, the girls below took to cheering loudly at every move he made. Harry studiously ignored them for as long as he could, until one particularly loud declaration of 'Harry Potter is the best!' made him almost fall off his broom.

Hermione followed his progress through the air almost as closely as the overzealous girls below did. Her Arithmancy book lay forgotten beside her, and her eyes were glued to the Omnioculars. While she herself absolutely hated the very idea of flying, she loved to watch Harry. Stick the boy on his Firebolt and he sliced effortlessly, almost gracefully, through the air. He had perfect control over the broomstick, and each movement was smooth and flawless. She didn't know much about flying or Quidditch, but she was knowledgeable enough to know without a doubt, that Harry was one of the best fliers she'd ever seen.

She was so caught up in watching Harry that, for a moment, she didn't realise that she'd lost sight of him. The team appeared to be practicing the Mazarro Manoeuvre; Ginny and Matti were weaving in and out around Dominic, the Quaffle sailing effortlessly between the three of them as they sped toward her end of the field where Ron, who had become a rather adept Keeper, was in front of the middle hoop, making lazy loops on his broom.

But Harry was nowhere to be found.

"He's gone!" she heard one of the girls exclaim.

Three seconds later, a hand slapped across her mouth. She dropped her Omnioculars as she suddenly found herself falling backwards, right out of the stands and into empty air.

She let out a muffled shriek.

"I've got you," Harry whispered, his mouth very close to her ear. "It's alright."

Hermione nodded blankly. She was sitting sideways on Harry's broom, her legs dangling over his left thigh. His right arm was around her waist, gripping the broom, the other still pressed against her mouth. She leaned slightly forward and snuck a peek down at the ground, which appeared very, very far away from her vantage point. She let out a horrified shriek, her eyes wide, and reflexively brought her hands up to wind around Harry's neck.

"Are you insane?!" she yelped once he pulled his hand away from her mouth. She tilted her head back slightly to look him in the face. "You're gonna get us killed! You're gonna get me killed!"

He grinned. "Aww Hermione, don't you trust me?"

"NO!" she snapped. He grinned again, mischievously and her eyes widened slightly.

She let out another shriek as, with the slightest nudge, he pointed the broom downward and spiralled toward the ground. Her arms tightened around his neck and she buried her face in his shoulder.

"Alright! Alright! I trust you!"

"That's better," Harry said, slowing down.

Hermione released her death grip on his neck a little. Despite the frantic thumping of her heart, her face was pressed against his Quidditch robes which smelled delightfully Harry-like, so she really wasn't in any particular hurry to pull away. She peered over his shoulder and realised that they were still behind the stands. She could hear the girls discussing Harry's sudden disappearance, the soft sound as the Gryffindor team zoomed around on their brooms, Ron's muffled shouting.

She felt Harry's hand on the small of her back and she pulled away slightly.

"Are you going to take me back up?" she asked quietly.

Harry leaned forward and pressed his forehead against hers, his eyes locked on hers. "Do you want me to?"

Hermione sighed involuntarily. "I'm not too fussed," she said laconically.

Harry smiled disarmingly and Hermione felt her heartbeat bolt up another notch.

His forehead was a bit sweaty and the air was decidedly colder up here, but really, once she got past the whole fear of heights thing, this flying business really wasn't so bad.

Almost without realising it, her fingers had slipped into his hair. She played absently with the hair at the back of his neck. She felt his arm tighten around her waist and her breathing quickened. The butterflies took up residence in her stomach again and she felt her eyes slip shut – he was so close …

She felt Harry jolt back away from her.

"Aaaahhhhh! Watch out!"

Her eyes snapped open, her head whipped around, and she let out yet another shriek. "HARRY!"

Ron was speeding through the air toward them, clutching his broom tightly, and yelling for all he was worth.

Unable to reach his wand and acting on sheer impulse, Harry went into a sudden dive, a look of intense concentration on his face. "Hang on tight, Hermione!" he shouted. Hermione nodded mutely, thinking, slightly hysterically, 'Ha! As though I'd be able to do anything else!'

"Oh no, oh no, oh no …" she muttered into the fabric of his Quidditch robes. The wind whipped through her hair as they sped inexorably down and she again pressed her face into his shoulder, her arms tightening around his neck. Harry aside, she was really beginning to rethink this flying situation!

"Harry! I'm going to kill you –" she moved her face away to glance over her shoulder and saw the ground rushing up to meet her. "– OH MY GOD!"

They were going way too fast to stop. It seemed like an eternity before they hit the ground.

And hit the ground they did.

Hermione found herself flattened against the soft grass just outside the Quidditch pitch, a broomstick on one side and a slightly dazed Harry on the other. Every single part of her body was aching – and the parts that were currently under Harry's weight were deliciously numb.

Hermione pushed herself up slowly, sitting back on her heels.

Her eyes then flew to Harry, who had darted up and scrambled toward her. "Hermione, are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she said, rubbing her wrist.

Harry reached a hand and touched his fingertips to her cheek. "Are you sure?"

Hermione smiled and closed her eyes briefly at his touch. "Positive."

Harry returned her smile and leaned closer …

"Harry!" Ron came to a skidding halt nearby, completely unscathed.

Hermione and Harry jumped apart and whirled around. Harry's hand dropped down to his side.

"Oh god, Harry!" Ron said, attempting to rush over before he'd even dismounted. As a result, he tripped and landed face first. He straightened up. "I'm sorry! That git Malfoy --- " Ron pulled Harry to his feet and broke off as he noticed Hermione looking decidedly worse for wear. "Hermione?!"

Harry gazed at Hermione for a long moment before reaching down to help her to her feet. He looked over her shoulder and sighed.

Hermione turned to find the Gryffindor Quidditch team, the five goggling girls, and half a dozen students hurrying toward them. She sighed in exasperation, pushing thoughts of bruises and unexpected crash-landings out of her mind.

He had been about to kiss her.

And they were interrupted.

Thwarted again.

Hermione allowed herself to be ushered back to the castle. Along the way she contemplated her situation.

That second attempt – thwarted though it was – was a step in the right direction, she was sure of it. Newly motivated, she snuck a glance at Harry, who was preoccupied with Ron's explanations and wildly gesticulating hands.

Her eyes narrowed.

Harry _still_ owed her a kiss.

And by all that was good in the world, she was going to get it!

Even if she had to lock Ron up in the Astronomy tower to do it.

… tbc


End file.
